


Greetings from the Fallow Mire

by McLavellan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Corpses, M/M, Necromancy, Necrophobe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 20:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McLavellan/pseuds/McLavellan
Summary: A letter from Dorian to his lover's cousin, upon discovering, in the worst place possible, that said lover is afraid of reanimated corpses.Just because I wanted to post something and this is all I have. I might give it a follow up.





	Greetings from the Fallow Mire

Oh, Niamh, what are we to do?

Poor, sweet Harry. Were you aware he had such a fear of the undead? Besides that “horse” of his. What’s her name, the Princessy one. Of course, the lack of horses here inspired the longest speech he's been able to make since we arrived. “Horses are smarter than people. If they won't come here, neither should we”. All of this said with the most petulant pout I've seen outside of Orlais. You said his mother was a Du Casperge, yes? It's showing.

I digress. The first ten minutes of his helpless gagging when we arrived were, dare I say it, quite funny. But after the gagging became vomit and the vomit became dry heaves from an empty stomach, it lost some of its charm. He's never been so quiet. Sadly, the lack of conversation has inspired Blackwall to break the silence with helpful tidbits such as “It's so wet. Why haven't the dead rotted away?”. Harry surprised us all with some contents of his stomach previously kept unseen.

Of course, I took the opportunity to question the oaf about something. He's been overheard enquiring about Harry and I. When confronted “I would not pry into the inquisitor’s business”. My arse! You'll be happy to know I offered diagrams. That shut him up. Oh, and, for good measure I threw him a wicked grin before entering Harry’s tent on the second night.

The first night, we couldn't find enough ground to make a decent camp so we holed up in some planks of wood that might have once been called a cabin. Nobody slept well, but at least most of us slept. Not your dear cousin. I watched him for a time, just staring at nothing, jumping at nothing. And saying nothing. Even my charming conversation couldn't pull him out. And that little smile he gives when he wants you to shut up and change the conversation? Barely a twitch of the lips now. I think, perhaps, he'd seen the smaller corpse, floating face down in the water. I'd desperately hoped that he'd missed it.

Last night, at least, we had a decent enough place to set up. Having unsettled Blackwall, I wanted to check on Harry. He still wasn't sleeping, but he allowed my company, silent as it was, and - now don't think me sappy- let me hold him. While I hate to see him so depressed, I revelled slightly at _Being Able To Look After Him_. He's usually so blasé, always “fine”, especially when he's not. But last night he merely came closer, resting against me. And slept. Not enough, but _enough_. He even ate after that great lummox pointed out that food meant strength and strength meant rescuing soldiers. Trust Harry to do something for complete strangers before himself. It infuriates me.

He spoke a little more today. Mostly just to say “it's different” to every argument we had against this ridiculous fear. When we were behind, I even took his hand, tried to bring him closer to one of the lumbering corpses, they're usually so dreadfully slow. That was when, of course, another decided to rear up from the shallow water and practically send Harry into my arms like a frightened child. Even Sera has stopped laughing. In fact, she's been quite delightfully distracting, frustrating Blackwall with tavern tales he's too simple to fully grasp.

Harry hasn't smiled since we last stopped to rest. Isn't that the same as a cat with a wet nose? A sign of something serious? We'll have to take good care of him when we get back to Skyhold.

All my love, dearest,

DORIAN

 

PS. Leliana, I know you're reading this. While I'm sure you won't let Harry miss out on the joys of Crestwood, perhaps Blackwall would be best positioned elsewhere? The Anderfels preferably.

Also, as the Amulet was your doing, I suppose I should thank you. So consider me having done so. Loosely.

**Author's Note:**

> Niamh belongs to [ Laura E Moriarty ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraemoriarty) so keep an eye out for her!
> 
> And Harry's Bog Unicorn is called Princess Bony-Parts. As for why he can stomach her but not a shambling corpse... I could cover that later but, to be honest, it's all about the eyes and the smell.


End file.
